


Caught Looking

by lydslibrary



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baseball, Baseballplayer!Dean, Dean Winchester Fluff, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Mention of pregnancy, SPN AU Bingo, Supernatural Fluff, baseball AU, dean winchester au, spn au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26047351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydslibrary/pseuds/lydslibrary
Summary: Baseball is Y/N's favorite sport of all time. It ends up meaning so much more to her than she could ever imagine after she meets Dean Winchester, her favorite player, at one of his games one night.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader
Kudos: 31





	Caught Looking

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first AU like this; no type of hunting/Supernatural plot points involved. It was a challenge, but I think it turned out so cute. Also, I've been to many baseball games in my life but the knowledge I have of the sport itself is very slim, please be kind to me (✿◡‿◡) Any feedback is appreciated, especially comments, they make me happy. Hope you guys enjoy!

> **_Caught looking:_** A term that is used to describe when a batter doesn’t swing the bat and watches the third strike cross the plate, therefore resulting in a strikeout. By watching the ball cross the plate, the batter is “caught looking” at the ball.

The familiar smells of hot dogs and cheese fries hit your nostrils as you made your way into the stadium. It was the best time of the year: baseball season. The months of April through September were the highlight of your year, every year, because it meant that you got to spend almost every weekend at a stadium, scarfing down nachos and watching a nice, long, relaxing game of baseball played by attractive men with attractive asses. You were particularly excited for this game as it was your first time seeing your favorite player, Dean Winchester, live in action — and thanks to some connections that you’d developed through the love of the game, you had seats right behind the home plate.

It was a good game; it was keeping you on the edge of your seat. It was only three innings in, but Dean had already hit two home-runs. His team was up by 3, and he was up to bat again. You cheered for him as he began walking over to home base, his ass accented nicely in the pants they all wore. He was chewing on something - probably tobacco or gum - and you hoped he would spit it out before he had to run to all three bases again. How embarrassing would it be to choke mid-homerun? You watched him curiously as he alternated between practicing his swing and kicking the dirt with his cleats as he waited for the OK for him to take his place at home base. The crowd was cheering for him; he was their favorite and he carried himself like he knew it. He stopped what he was doing for a moment and scanned his cheering audience, his eyes stopping on you. For a moment you could’ve sworn he winked and shot you one of his cocky smiles, but it was his turn to bat and by the time you processed the interaction, he was already swinging at the ball. He hit another home run, earning a roar of approval from the crowd. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him; suddenly the game itself didn’t matter to you as much. He had piqued your interest, and now you were curious, expectant even, that you might get to know Dean Winchester off the field too.

“Excuse me?”

You took your eyes off the jumbo screen that was displaying the lyrics to a modified version of _Take Me Out to the Ball Game_ during a break between innings _._ You looked up in the direction of the voice; it was a man, you think he’s the water boy, standing in front of you.

“What’s up?” You questioned, already half-knowing the answer. The game was almost over and Dean had been shooting you winks and smirks and smiles all night.

“Dean Winchester wants to know if you’d meet him in the locker room? After the game?”

You raised your eyebrows in fake surprise. “Sure. How do I get there?”

“You can follow me now, if you’d like. There’s a T.V. where you can watch the rest of the game from.”

“Okay,” you shrugged, readjusting your purse strap on your shoulder and standing up from your seat.

The locker room smelled like a mixture of AXE body spray and sweat. It’s a very nice locker room; hardwood floors and giant murals of the team on each wall. There are lockers lining the left wall, sticker decals with each player’s name and number plastered on them. In the middle of the room there’s a blue leather couch, seated to face the wall opposite of the lockers which had a giant flat screen TV mounted on it, the end of the game outside being shown on it. On either side of the TV there were vending machines, one filled with various snacks, the other with drinks, mainly water and Gatorade. You could hear the muffled cheering of the crowd outside as you watched the TV; Dean had hit yet another home run. You made yourself comfortable on the couch, your legs bent at the knee beside you, resting on the cushion, your elbow leaning on the arm rest. The whole team was about to walk in here and you were nervous as you anticipated the awkwardness that was about to consume the room. _But they must do this all the time_ , you thought to yourself, as you hoped that you weren’t the first girl that a player has called back into the locker room. You pulled out of your thoughts and glanced at the TV, the team hugging and congratulating each other on yet another win this season. They’ve been undefeated so far. You held your breath as you heard the door click, and one by one the team started filing in. Some of them ignored you, some of them shot you an awkward smile and wave, which you returned. They were either wondering who the hell you were or they knew exactly what you were doing in their locker room. Dean came walking in, laughing with one of his teammates, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw you. You smiled and waved awkwardly from the couch, not knowing what else to do. He returned the gesture, walking over to you and taking the seat next to you.

“Dean,” he said, holding his hand out for you to shake. You took it.

“Y/N,” you replied.

The locker room emptied slowly, not that you had noticed anyone leaving. You and Dean had been sitting on the blue couch for hours, engrossed in deep conversation. You had covered all things baseball, favorite foods (his favorite was, to quote, “anything with meat”), favorite TV shows (Dean liked some show which you forgot the name of; something to do with hunting monsters; he pretended to be offended when you told him you’d never seen it, then promised he’d show it to you), and now you somehow got to the topic of cars.

“A ‘67 Chevy Impala, that’s definitely the dream,” he said yearningly. He was facing you, his elbow resting on the back side of the couch, his cheek in his palm.

“Weirdly enough, that’s what I drive,” you said with a giggle.

Dean’s eyes got big with excitement. “Seriously!?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “No, I just thought it’d make you like me more,” you teased. Dean gives you a playful shove.

“Jerk.”

“Hey, a girls gotta use what she’s got,” you shrugged. Not that you had any doubts about where this night was going.

“Oh, trust me. You don’t have to lie to me to make me think you’re the coolest person I’ve ever met. I was almost caught looking... and not at the ball,” he said, a goofy smile plastered on his face. You rolled your eyes at the cheesiness that showed through his baseball pun and Dean scooted closer to you. “In all seriousness though, Y/N, you’re amazing.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Winchester,” you replied with a soft smile. On the outside, you thought you were doing a pretty good job of remaining calm. However, on the inside, your stomach was tied in a million knots and your brain couldn’t seem to stop screaming, _OH MY GOD! IT’S DEAN FREAKING WINCHESTER!_ Dean smiled softly at you and your breathed hitched in your throat as you took a moment to take in his facial features; the crinkles formed around his beautiful green eyes, his pink plump lips, his freckles strung out across his cheekbones, his jawline. He was a piece of art if you’ve ever seen one, and here he was, sitting in front of you, looking over all of your features as well. Not to mention, he was still in his dirt covered baseball uniform, which made you bite your lip and think of all the dirty things you wanted him to do to you.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” He asked suddenly, snapping you out of your dirty thoughts and making you blush.

“So are you,” you laughed. Dean chuckled and looked around the locker room.

“Damn, we must’ve been sitting here for a while,” he stated, as he glanced at the clock hanging above the TV. It was almost midnight. The game had ended around 9:30. 

“You want to go out on the field? Hit some dingers?” This question really caught you off guard; it was not where you saw the night going, but this was your favorite team, and to be able to step out on the field and actually play some ball – with your favorite player – that was a dream come true.

“Hell yes,” you replied eagerly, standing up from the couch and stretching your limbs. The two of you really had been sitting there a while.

“Alright then, Y/L/N, let’s see what you got.”

“DAMN!” Dean yelled, as he watched the ball that you had just hit fly across the stadium. It would’ve been a home run for sure, had you been playing an actual game. You dropped the bat and started running the bases as Dean watched you from the pitcher’s mound. “And Y/N Y/L/N hits a home run!” He said, imitating an commentator quite well. You started laughing and finally made it back to home base, dropping to your knees in a fit of giggles, while simultaneously trying to catch your breath. It’s not that what Dean had said was that funny, it was the odds of being in this situation that were making you laugh. Here, at midnight, in your favorite team’s stadium, playing a two-person version of your favorite sport, with your favorite player. The odds of any of this occurring were slim to none, yet here you were, lying on your back, your head resting on home base, watching Dean Winchester walk over to you. “I didn’t realize I was that funny,” he said with a smile, as he made himself comfortable next to you. The two of you looked up at the stars through the open roof of the stadium. You were glad that all the lights had been turned off, it allowed you to see the stars in what your dad used to call “HD vision”.

“You’re not that funny,” you teased, glancing over at Dean, “I’m just having a hard time believing that I’m not in a dream right now.”

“Me too,” he chuckled, looking back at you. And then he was leaning in, and his lips crashed into yours, and fireworks went off; the same ones that went off in the stadium every time Dean hit a home run during the game, except these fireworks were going off inside you. You cupped his face in your hands and deepened the kiss, wanting to do nothing but stay in this moment forever. You rolled over on top of him, making yourself comfortable in a straddled position on his lap, and he grabbed the backs of your thighs, softly chuckling into the kiss as he realized that your legs were covered in dirt. “We’re going to get real dirty if we keep it up out here,” he teased as you pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath for a moment.

“We’re gonna get dirty anyway, Winchester,” you said with a wink, leaning back in to resume the kiss.

“I like the way you think,” he smiled, before meeting your lips halfway.

“HEY!” The two of you stopped making out and you un-straddled the baseball player as fast as you could. Dean sat up next to you, squinting as a beam of light hit the both of you in the face. “WHAT ARE YOU TWO DO – is that you, Dean!?” The voice asked, as a man came walking into view.

“Hey, Bobby, it’s me,” Dean said sheepishly, standing up and wiping what dirt that he could off of him. You followed suit.

“Boy, you just ‘bout got tased. You too, missy,” Bobby said. Your eyes adjusted to the light from his flashlight and you could tell that Bobby was stadium security by his uniform.

“Sorry, we’ll take it elsewhere,” Dean apologized, running his hand through his hair nervously. Bobby chuckled in disbelief.

“Please, do. Sex in a stadium, boy, you have lost your damn mind. Kids these days… idjits,” Bobby mumbled, as he turned back around and walked off the field. Dean smiled at you nervously.

“That’s Bobby, he’s security. Good guy, just grumpy,” he explained. You giggled at the situation.

“Yeah, I figured that,” you said, grabbing Dean’s hand, “let’s take this somewhere else then.”

  
Dean shut the door behind him without breaking the kiss as the two of you stumbled into his apartment. Your arms were around his neck and he had one arm around your waist, the other pulling at your thigh, signaling for you to jump. You pushed off the ground and hooked your legs around his waist as he carried you down the hall to what you assumed was the bedroom. The two of you were kissing hungrily the whole way; you never wanted to stop kissing him. He tasted like bubblegum and tobacco, both scents and tastes that reminded you of your favorite thing; baseball. And now _him._ Dean placed you on the bed gently, although his kisses remained hungry and rough; it was all teeth and tongue at this point, no lips involved. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist, bringing him down with you as your back touched the mattress. Dean broke the kiss by putting his hands on either side of your head, holding himself up in a hover above you. You let you head fall to the mattress and began to stare at the man above you. His eyes were glistening in the moonlight that was coming through his window; the only light you two had in the dark room. He was so beautiful.

“You are so beautiful,” he said as he took a moment to look back at you. You blushed again, but he wouldn’t have been able to tell; it was too dark. “So,” he began, as he ducked down to place a kiss on your neck, “fucking,” he kissed you again on your collarbone, “beautiful,” he ended, with a kiss to your lips. There was a familiarity about these kisses; they weren’t one-night stand kisses. They were long-term relationship kisses. There was a permanence about them. If this was a one-night stand, you’d be done by now. You’d already be back home in your bed, fast asleep. But this was not a one-night stand. You both knew that. You both felt it. 

* * *

“C’mon, son, you got it!” Dean yelled, as he leaned over, resting his hands on his knees. You watched him from the bleachers where you were sitting, your heart filled with the all too familiar love of baseball. Except, baseball meant so much more to you these days than you ever thought possible. Occasionally, you took yourself back to the night that you met Dean. Things would trigger the happy memory, like right now, as you watched your son play the game and Dean coach the Little League team. While baseball always had been a part of your life, you were never sure, until that night, that it always would be. Dean smiled at you with pride from across the field as your little boy hit the ball a few feet in front of him (he was five, so, hitting the ball at all is a success). He dropped the bat and ran as fast as his little legs could take him. He got to first base safely and Dean looked at you again, the same way he had all those years ago when you were sitting behind the home plate watching him play. You smiled back and rested your hand on your belly; you were due in two months. You quickly wiped a tear from your eye as a wave of happiness hit you; this is a life you had only dreamt of. You had seen Dean hit a lot more home runs throughout his career as the years went by, but you always knew that you hit the most important one of them all.


End file.
